


My Sweet Prince

by Darksilversilhouette



Category: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Character Study, Complicated Relationships, Excessive Drinking, Friendship/Love, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 14:44:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16431428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darksilversilhouette/pseuds/Darksilversilhouette
Summary: Living with Genesis Rhapsodos isn't easy, and Genesis doesn't really make things easier at all. Heaven forbid you develop feelings for him.Because he just makes them worse.





	My Sweet Prince

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arnediadglanduath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arnediadglanduath/gifts).



> I was inspired by 'My Sweet Prince' by Placebo for this work, hence the title. It's also not beta'ed, so all mistakes are on me. Also this can be read as a stand-alone piece or as some sort of backstory for Angeal and Genesis in Visions of Nirvana series.
> 
> Alright, without further ado, enjoy!

Angeal wondered for the seventy-hundred-sixty-fourth time why he’d agreed to come to Goblin Bar with Genesis.

There was nothing wrong with their choice of whereabouts. The place had a rustic design, and considering that most of its patrons were SOLDIER members, and since-if the dark-haired Second recalled correctly-the place was run by a retired SOLDIER, everything was pretty much made from sturdy durable materials; in case drunken brawls broke out or people became too inebriated to know which way was up and which way was down. 

The spacious pub was probably at its busiest hour because there was simply no empty chair, and all the tables-which were usually arranged in neat rows, and were now in a state of complete disarray-were occupied. While they had arrived way before the peak hour rolled in, thankfully they’d managed to keep their secluded booth for themselves, and even though every once in a while, a soldier they knew passed them by and nodded in acknowledgement, that was just about all the attention their presence garnered.

None of these worried the raven-haired man. In fact, none of these were out of the ordinary.

What was giving him restless feet below their table was the individual sitting in front of him, and the still-life witnesses-which were currently littering the sleek wooden surface-to how they’d spent presumably the last four hours in the bar. Various glassware, bottles; whiskey-which was what they had started with-vodka, the absinthe Genesis had bought and was planning on drinking on their way home, straight from the neck and neat like an idiot hellbent of getting alcohol poisoning. Then there was an ashtray full of cigarette butts, and Angeal had sent a prayer to the Goddess because at least his comrade had the decency not to smoke something that smelled like pesticide. But, as though the deity watching over them had decided to turn the dark-haired Second’s life into a sitcom, his best friend had decided for the past hour to switch from smoking regular cigarettes to rolling and smoking joints. And the younger man’s blue eyes probably had been the size of saucers, because did Genesis somehow have a never-ending stash of weed on his person everywhere he went? Was it even legal? How much had it cost in the first place? How much fine would they have to pay if they were apprehended for smuggling drugs? There were so many questions on the raven-haired man’s mind that he was effectively going cross-eyed with them.

And if those questions or his childhood friend’s excessive drinking wasn’t enough to give him a headache, the smell of pot that lingered around the redhead in an almost visible sphere of smoke had made him grit his teeth enough that he was getting jaw pain.

So, as he was rubbing circles against his temples, the last straw came in the shape of the redheaded Second’s favorite song, to which he was currently swaying in his seat; eyes closed in the never-leaving expression of euphoria as his half-smoked joint was dangling from between cerise lips. Which, fine. Begrudgingly, Angeal couldn’t help but appreciate his best friend’s happiness and nonchalance in his drunken, and beautifully flushed state, but the moment the vocals started, Genesis was rising from his seat. And again, that would have been fine, but those dexterous artistic hands rose as well, dragging along the dark long-sleeved sweater the older man was wearing in a fashion that made heat rise up to his cheeks. 

Kicking his comrade’s boots under the table, Angeal leant over the littered surface and hissed. “Genesis,  _ what are you doing? _ Sit down.” Had to repeat it louder for it to be intelligible among the noise and the music, only to see the redhead flash a lazy bright and equally unhinged smile at him before stumbling out of their booth; dancing. 

Before his childhood friend could embarrass himself in front of what amounted to be a platoon of SOLDIER, Angeal hastily rummaged through his sweatpants pockets, slammed a grand on the table-which a waiter swiftly collected behind him-before he caught up with the Commander and pushed his bottle of absinthe in his right hand and looped the older man’s left arm around his own neck. It seemed that either the redhead was in a good mood, or he preferred to keep his mouth shut to enjoy his joint to the very end instead of throwing a tantrum about the dark-haired Second mother-henning him, as Genesis liked to put it. 

Once they were out of Goblin’s and on their merry way back to HQ, Angeal let go of his comrade’s arm as he reached to pluck the spliff from those sanguine lips. Crushing it underfoot-which garnered him a protesting ‘Hey!’-, and Genesis rushed to save it only to stumble and almost crash face first into the sidewalk were it not for the dark-haired Commander who swiftly looped the same arm back around his neck.

“Do you have to drink yourself to oblivion and get stoned to the bone?” The blue-eyed younger man remarked irritatedly, but his best friend seemed to be high as a kite at the moment and wasn’t coming down any time soon. Shaking his head as he walked and half-dragged a stumbling Genesis alongside him, Angeal hailed a cab; because there was simply no way he’d haul the redhead all the way to HQ in such a condition. It was a bit difficult to get his comrade in the car at first which was adding to his mounting displeasure; but when the warmth of the scarlet-haired Second’s body sagged against his side, a swatch of auburn attempting to nestle itself in between his torso and his arm-which he draped over Genesis’ shoulder and onto his abdomen as the older man hiked up his legs up onto the seat, much to the driver’s dismay-Angeal couldn’t bring himself to stay even half-heartedly irritated at his companion. 

It was really hard to stay mad at Genesis-the younger Second reflected-no matter what kind of trouble the redhead seemed to be up to, no matter whatever mess he got himself caught up in. The thought was enough to bring a smile to pale lips as he looked down to find those slender yet strong fingers tracing distractedly along his digits and the back of his palm where it was currently resting on the older man’s torso. And it wasn’t really fair how everything came so naturally and effortlessly for his childhood friend-though, it wasn’t really a true statement-but why something like a mindless touch-without no cognizant thought or emotion behind it-should hold Angeal in thrall like that? Why something as simple as this should fascinate him so much that he couldn’t tear his gaze away...couldn’t help but want to cover the older man’s hand with his own, to flip it over and see if those fiery brands would still trail along the calluses of his palm like wandering whirligigs… But how to work up the courage to do that… 

_ No _ . He wouldn’t ruin a lifetime of friendship just because he was wanting for more. His mother and father had always taught him that greed was a ruinous thing, and while he might have been too young to understand back then, he was surely not so young, naive and innocent-if he could even be called that-anymore; especially not now, not after having so much innocent blood dyeing his hands which never seemed to wash away, no matter what. 

“That motherfucker is on the front, reaping victory after victory. Basking in glory and hero worship,” And there was a strange vein running behind those words, but the dark-haired Second couldn’t really pinpoint what it was. “Why shouldn’t  _ I _ have some fun while I’m wasting away  _ here _ .” And a selfish part of him didn’t really care whatever it was that was streaking his childhood friend’s voice, because whatever it was, it was oddly reminiscent of bitterness, of jealousy, and-  _ No. _ That was the wrong way to think about it; even though he tried to pull his hand away in a manner that wasn’t too obvious that he’d been almost physically burnt by the mention of they-both-knew-whom, and  _ was he jealous of Genesis’ love for Sephiroth? _ Even though he ruffled those soft unruly locks of riotous red before straightening somewhat and draping his hand behind the headrests of the backseat. And when Genesis instead leant his head on his lap, Angeal was positively miserable, hopeless, and also helpless.

Looking into cerulean irises that were studying his face-though how much of it the auburn-haired Second would remember come morning-the dark-haired soldier tried to pull his act and his thoughts together.

He had to hold back. 

There was no denying the fact that he wanted Genesis, that he loved him like he never had anyone before, but he had to keep all of this in check. Because there was the stark truth that the redhead had eyes only for Sephiroth and no one else; and while the silver-haired man was totally oblivious to whatever the eldest of them did and said, Angeal couldn’t be selfish like that, couldn’t ruin their friendships just because he wanted something. There was also the other fact that the redheaded Commander wanted something different from love than he did. And maybe it was fantastical, maybe it was something out of the books, but he didn’t want to be physical with his childhood friend, and that was an inseparable facet of a relationship for Genesis, a very essential part of it. 

The thought of looking at the man currently dozing off with his head in his lap like that, was enough to make him feel like he was sullying their friendship, that he was taking advantage of the older Second...and it was unbearable, unconscionable, incondonable.

So, no, Angeal Hewley was content and grateful to just being Genesis’ best friend, or so he thought.

The traffic didn’t really clear until they’d almost arrived at the headquarters, and he’d almost had a heart attack when he noticed the digital clock on the taximeter because it was well past midnight, only to remember that curfew didn’t apply to them anymore. And while they still lived in the barracks and were still Seconds, they were mostly treated like Firsts. Regardless, he’d used that excuse to wake his comrade up-because in normal situations they needed a B-flat trumpet screaming the high triple F to return the redhead to the realm of reality-and despite Genesis’ steadily wearing off stupor, it got him scrambling off his lap and out on the curb, only for the older man to realize his mistake halfway inside the lobby, and to promptly glare daggers at Angeal’s face during the entirety of the elevator ride.

Finally reaching their flat, it was Genesis who swiped his keycard and nearly slammed the door in Angeal’s face were it not for his quick reflexes. Inside, everything was still shrouded in darkness-the way the redhead liked it especially in moments like this-and the dark-haired soldier had to thank the mako in his system and his mental faculties because while they hadn’t spent long in their apartment-and probably wouldn’t considering how quickly both of them had risen through the ranks-he knew the plan like the back of his palm. It wasn’t that spacious, but considerably bigger than their previous accommodations, because they didn’t have to share with others, and definitely, it wasn’t anything like Third Class efficiencies and rooms. There was the kitchen that was connected to the living room which was rather lackluster considering the only things it housed were a couch, a bookcase-which mostly held Genesis’ books-some of his plants that were mostly clustered in a corner-because the older man wouldn’t stop nagging him about some nonexistent pests-and lastly their various footwear stacked on a shoe shelf by the door. 

Turning on the light inside the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, he heard the tell-tale flick of a lighter, and as he grumbled under his breath about it, he retrieved an ashtray. “Haven’t you smoked yourself into a chimney yet?” Leaving the light on as he made his way out toward the couch, he saw Genesis emerge from their shared bedroom into the hallway, with the orange ember of his cigarette and a pair of glowing blue eyes as his heralds. 

Shirtless.

“If you’re so averse to my smoking, then why did you bring me an ashtray?” An auburn eyebrow cocked upwards as his childhood friend came and stood on the opposite side of the coffee table from where the younger Second was reclining against the couch with his legs stretched out in front of him. The bottle of the green spirit was placed with a clink on the sleek surface, and the weight of that cerulean gaze forced his eyes to traverse the length of Genesis’ body to meet those observant irises.

It wasn’t really fair, but maybe his comrade was getting revenge for the act Angeal had pulled earlier; and probably it was, because while he wished that the redheaded Commander go to bed, it was highly unlikely now considering how he’d woken him up. And he found that he couldn’t hold his friend’s gaze anymore, so he looked at the spot on the wall through the fringe of auburn tresses, only for Genesis to tilt his head. And the sparkle of his earring dangling from his ear was a mesmerizing beautiful thing... When his best friend saw that no answer was forthcoming however, the tip of a booted foot nudged his, again arching a quizzical eyebrow at him. 

Sighing, and with his glass of water almost empty, he decided to lean forward and pour himself some of the absinthe, since apparently, this was going to be a really long night. “I don’t know.” He muttered quietly before knocking back the shot he’d poured himself. Promptly, he was accosted with an urge to hiss, and to curse the redhead who seemed to be enjoying his misery as the alcohol burned all the way down to settle inside his stomach in a heated burning pool. “How do you drink this shit  _ neat _ ?”

A smirk, and Genesis placed the lighter and his pack of cigarettes on the table, balancing the one he’d been smoking on the edge of the ceramic ashtray. Rounding the crisscrossed manufactured-wood coffee table, his best friend forwent sitting beside him on the couch and instead deposited himself on Angeal’s lap. And the way the dark-haired soldier tensed, the way he tried disappearing into the couch cushions which made the cruel curve of those sanguine lips stretch into a wider smirk, didn’t help his situation at all. Because that only served to intrigue the older man, and when the redhead was curious, nothing would stand in his way till he could get to the bottom of it.

“You’re smarter and better than that  _ ‘Geal. _ Try again.”    
  
It took him a minute to realize that it was probably about his rather blatant and unintended attempt at changing the subject. But as soon as the thought occurred to him, it was gone…his focus distracted by the wealth of the pale skin presented in front of him, by the slight flush that still lingered behind...and the way the light coming from the kitchen was throwing the smooth planes and hard angles of Genesis’ physicality into sharp relief. And he’d seen how it had transformed from the somewhat lanky body of a seven-year-old redhead when they used to go swimming and playing in the Piraanhale lake, to the lean and striking figure the older Commander cut now. And to stop himself from reaching for it, he had to flex and unflex his fingers against the vinyl fabric of the cushions, to twist it in his fists which creaked and gave him further away.

And those blue eyes… 

“You’re sweating.” A fingertip skidded across his forehead, and the manner Genesis cocked his head to the side wasn’t innocent at all, his gaze following the path his digit had taken before his hand plunged in his hair, trimmed nails scraping against his scalp, and Angeal couldn’t...couldn’t… His eyes fluttered closed of their own accord before he seemed to realize what was happening. Just as he was about to prise those fingers out of his hair, his childhood friend dropped his hand, half-turned to take yet another cigarette because the other one had turned to ash, only for the dark-haired Second’s hands which gripped lithe hips to stop him mid-motion.

And those blue eyes met his again, and there was a mischievous sparkle swirling in their depths, almost playful, and yet they were keen as always...contrasting beautifully with the strands that put the hues of fire to shame.

“What are you doing?” Angeal queried disbelievingly, hesitatingly; almost afraid of the answer and yet…

“Taking another  _ cigarette _ ?” A smirk, and yet Genesis didn’t budge, didn’t move to do what he’d been about to do.

“You know very well I didn’t mean that.” He pressed on, and for a moment the feeling that he’d turned into one of the redhead’s experiments of the romantic and sexual variety made him want to throw the older man across the room, felt like a stab in his gut, because then what about their friendship…? Was it so easy to squander it away?  _ No _ . Genesis wasn’t like that. And he was almost ready to plead the redhead, to ask him for reassurance that it wasn’t what they’d come to after all these years...that Midgar hadn’t really twisted his childhood friend so much that he was a stranger that Angeal didn’t know anymore...because then he’d be truly and utterly alone.

Sure, there was Sephiroth. But even though the dark-haired Second considered the green-eyed First his friend, he was sure it wasn’t a mutual feeling, that his sentiment wasn’t returned. And while he was fine with that, that didn’t exactly help his current dilemma. He and the young General of Shinra’s army weren’t close enough for him to bare his soul, and he couldn’t ruin the silver-haired man’s perception of Genesis just because of how his childhood friend had changed...and maybe Angeal wasn’t really a good friend at all, because he hadn’t noticed those changes in the first place. Maybe it was his fault somehow, that the redhead was like this now...and how was Genesis like? What was wrong with him? Everyone adored the scarlet-haired Commander; the men, the personnel and the populace, the press… and if Angeal wasn’t his biggest and first fan, he at least was among the many.

“-Angeal?” And when had that handsome androgynous face drawn so near that the dark-haired Second could count the almost invisible freckles his best friend hated with a passion? When had he placed a calloused hand against his sparsely stubbled jaw? And why was Angeal suddenly so nervous? Why did his breaths seem to be coming up too fast and too shallow that he didn’t seem to get enough air in his lungs? Why-...

“-Do you love me?” was an almost playful query.

What?! 

Had he somehow become transparent, or had Genesis suddenly developed mind-reading abilities?

Before his terror could take full effect, he was being ensnared in a kiss, and everything simply fled but his senses.

Warm and moist, and oh so soft...and the way he moaned wasn’t a lustful thing, but those luxurious lips that had closed over his still mouth stretched into a small smile. Those nimble fingers returned to his hair and the way those copper-colored lashes swept pale cheekbones were the last thing he saw as his eyes fluttered closed. And while he’d been unresponsive at first, he couldn’t help but feel himself melt. And when his hands rose of their own accord to reverently, hesitatingly trail upper on the holy grail of Genesis’ sides, when the redhead shivered...was only when he realized..what the fuck was he doing?

Broken out of a trance, he pulled back...looking with possibly the most astonished expression on his face at his best friend.

“ _ Gen… _ ” And he hated how broken and weird he sounded, only for a finger to press against his lips to shush him, and even then he didn’t stop. “ _ Why? _ ”

“Why what? Can’t I kiss my best friend?” The fingers of Genesis’ other hand which had stilled started threading through his hair again, soothing. And Angeal didn’t know if he should feel guilty and ashamed or angry instead, because what about their friendship then? Did that kiss just spell the end of it? A brief chuckle put a stop to his jumbled thoughts, and before the redhead could open his mouth, he quickly queried.

“Are you still high? Are you still drunk? Because I don’t understand, and I don’t want to lose your friendship, Gen, I’m sorry…I should-”

“-Shhh…” Perfunctory, and not at all chastising; sweet in a way that was so wholly uncharacteristic of his comrade-in-arms. “My sweet ‘ngeal.” And if there was anything he wanted to say, it died on his tongue because of those fingers and the strange expression on Genesis’ visage. “I won’t give up and let my friendship with you be ruined by anything for the world.” Azure irises didn’t seem to settle, traced over his features in a slow manner that it seemed like the older Second was trying to memorize them. “I don’t need to be high or drunk to want to kiss you…” And again, he was ensnared, enthralled as he was, and the feel of his comrade’s lips against his own was like an aphrodisiac...the timid hint of a tongue against the seam of his lips, and he opened up to taste the ash and the smoke, to feel it rush like molten fire down his spine… And goddess knew how he had never been filled with so much desire for anyone... least of all his best friend, the only one he’d sworn to protect when they’d left Banora together… and only the goddess knew how ashamed he was of himself… but that perfect mouth was persistent, even as his childhood friend whispered hoarsely in between their intermittent kisses. “You will…” Another heady liplock, and Angeal was responding eagerly now, rising up to meet those lush curves with his own mouth, even as long, slender fingers carded through his hair, caressed across the tiny hairs of his stubble along his jaw. “Always be…” Deep, passionate and it felt like he was tasting fire...and his hands were now roaming everywhere on the yards of skin bestowed upon him… the pearlescent epidermis he glided his fingertips upon like ivory damask. “My best friend…” And the younger soldier wasn’t sure if it was his moan or Genesis’ as the redhead licked into his mouth, an adroit tongue sliding over his… A litany of soft smacks as their lips parted and closed over one other, over and over...breathing turned ragged and harsh…the faint rustle of vinyl and the leather of Genesis’ pants as the older man swayed and undulated atop him…slowly...tantalizingly... And vaguely, Angeal knew he was incredibly aroused, but when a hand pressed against the tent in his pants, fingers seeking the outline of his hard-on only to grab it through the thick fabric, the realization hit him like a Dual Horn.

Immediately, he broke away, staring with wild wide blue eyes at his best friend’s as he swatted his hand away… And oddly enough, he felt very much close to crying but he put on a strong face and ducked his head… Looked hatefully at the problem in his pants…disgusted at himself, disappointed of himself because he’d ended up doing what he’d promised himself not to do… 

“ _ ‘Geal? _ ” His companion whispered hesitatingly, cautiously, so very unlike the redhead he knew. 

“I don’t-” And he struggled with himself to get the words out, drowning in a sea of shame, self-loathing and guilt. “I can’t-! Gen! I’m-”

“-Stop.” Standing up from his lap, a hand was proffered-palm up-which made him look up at the older man. “It’s nothing you did. It was  _ my  _ fault.” A pause and Genesis wiggled his fingers. “Come,” A nod toward the direction of their bedroom. “I think we’re both drunker than we’d like to admit.” 

And maybe they were. Maybe it wasn’t such a horrible lie. Maybe his childhood friend was still high and didn’t like to admit it. But that was what he was going to tell himself because the thought of losing their friendship was just too much to bear. The consequences of accepting responsibility for what he’d succumbed to even more unbearable, incondonable. 

So, when he accepted his comrade’s hand and rose to his feet, Angeal offered the redheaded Commander a small fragile smile as they made their way through the hallway. Taking off his shirt, he let it drop to the mess of clothes on the carpeted floor and sat down on the edge of the bed to unlace and take off his boots. And while he’d expected the older man to settle down in the bed in front of him, Genesis climbed up on Angeal’s, sat down at the foot of the mattress waiting for him to be finished with his shoes and socks.

The redhead slipped into his bed-and his cot or sleeping bag when they were on the front-sometimes when the nightmares left both of them too rattled to be able to go back to sleep, and before that, they used to share a bed whenever his childhood friend came to their house to stay over for the night; or sometimes snuck in only for his parents to come dragging him back to the Rhapsodos mansion in the morning, but that was just about it. And maybe this night was no different from all those other nights they shared a bed.  _ Yeah, _ that’s what Angeal was going to tell himself, even as he lay down on his side, and Genesis followed his suit, settled against him with his back against the dark-haired Second’s chest, both of them tense, and it was awkward. 

And then his comrade took his hand which was lying on his side and draped it around a slender but masculine waist, covered it with his own while the younger blue-eyed soldier was awfully self-conscious of how his cock was pressing against the contour of his friend’s backside. So, he decided to keep his mouth shut, tried to bury his face in a thatch of fiery tresses and inhale deep...to focus on his breathing and will himself to relax. And finally, it wasn’t awkward anymore as both of them started loosening up, as Angeal’s eyelids started feeling heavy. 

Yes, tonight wasn’t going to change anything between them. It wasn’t worth it, and Genesis had said that he’d always be his best friend, so Angeal was going to let it slide… He’d continue to love his redheaded childhood friend platonically…tell himself that he loved him as his younger brother that was actually older than him, even if it was probably a bit messed up like they both were; even if Genesis’ ways with going about his emotions were more complicated and messed up than his were. And maybe come morning, they’d both forget whatever had happened last night; which in his companion’s case it was more of a verity than a probability, so that was what the younger Second was going with as well.

_ Yeah, _ everything would be fine tomorrow.

Mumbling a ‘Goodnight Gen.’ and dimly acknowledging a ‘Night  _ ‘Geal. _ ’, the dark-haired Commander felt himself drift off, dreaming about their youthful memories in a small town with rolling emerald hills, pale crescents of Banora White trees and the dumb purple apples that were ready to harvest at the weirdest time of the year.    
  
And as Angeal dreamt on, he missed the lonely tear that made its trek over the bridge of a pale nose before it dropped and soaked into the pillow. He missed the slight downturn of cerise lips.

He missed when Genesis whispered almost inaudibly how he loved Sephiroth, and yet, he loved Angeal too.   



End file.
